Disparate
by TempestWolf999
Summary: Six children were given inhuman qualities. They will have to face the horrors of the world, the government, a seemingly unbeatable adversary, and worst of all, each other. Sherlock AU. Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and stuff that don't belong to me. This applies to the whole story, including chapters to come. I don't own Sherlock, or the _Sherlock Holmes _books, or anything like that. I only own the plot. **

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Science has been changed over the years various times. There are theories for every aspect of life on earth. For example, some believe in evolution and natural selection, while others believe in a divine being with omnipotent attributes. Some believe in peace and harmony, while others believe that war and carnage is the only was to rise to the apex in life.

While many people have their different ideas, there are always facts. Facts are not variables. They cannot be changed. But humans, no matter how much they adapt to life on earth, are always looking for ways to make facts into variables; to control and manipulate everything and everyone. If they cannot do this, they exterminate it, make it powerless so that they may reign supreme.

Some humans are clever. Too clever for the others to tolerate. Sometimes they are forced into hiding. Such was the case of Dr. Mortimer Straker, an intelligent man with a history in studying science. He specialized in the study of DNA and neurons, and he was also well up in mathematics and physics. He thought that by editing the DNA and adding more specialized neurons to the brain, one could achieve inhuman qualities. Dr. Straker tested his hypothesis on various animals, and found them to be correct.

It worked.

He was in hiding. Hiding from the governments, and from the world. He knew that he couldn't let them find his discovery. It would lead to worldwide catastrophe. But then again, he couldn't destroy his findings. Dr. Straker pondered his situation for months. Finally, he came to a decision. He got six different injections ready, one for each of the six possible elements. Then, he waited.

They knew where he was, and he was aware of it. He had to act now, or they would come after him. So, taking his life's work, he burned all of his notes and journals, only sparing his personal diary. Then he packed his few belongings and set off.

His plan was to find six children. Each would be injected with one of the serums. Each would have one element. They would have to be intelligent, and their personalities would have to correspond with the element that they were to possess. Where does one find intelligent children? That was his only problem. He had to find them before the government found him.

Dr. Straker soon found himself hired as a school teacher. It was at this Second graders' that he found the first one.

She was an intelligent girl; above average. Sure, she was no genius, but her emotional intelligence made up for it. When the time came, Dr. Straker injected the "Element: Day labeled serum into 7 year old Molly Hooper. Her eyes changed color instantly, turning pale yellowish white.

After that, he applied for a position with older children. It was then that he met Mycroft Holmes and Charles Augustus Magnussen. Magnussen was two years older than Mycroft, who was seven years older than Molly had been. Magnussen was given Earth, and Mycroft was given Water. At a teacher/parent meeting, he met Mycroft's younger brother and sister. They were twins; both seven years younger than Mycroft.

Eurus was given Air, and it was quite fitting. Sherlock was given Night.

The last one was the hardest, but he found him.

James Moriarty was the same age as the twins and Molly. He was intelligent, unpredictable, dangerous, homeless, and a self-proclaimed pyromaniac.

It was perfect.

So then, he was given Fire.

After this, Dr. Mortimer Straker destroyed all evidence and went on the run again. He was eventually caught and interrogated, but he admitted nothing. He eventually died in prison, thinking that his discovery would never be discovered.

But oh, was he wrong.

The Holmes children came from an intelligent bloodline. Their aunt, Rhody, noticed something different about them. Eventually she made some serums and injected them into herself. She mutated. Terrified, she destroyed the serums and ran away, never to return. But that is another story.

The six children grew up oblivious to the curse they carried. One day they would meet. But that would occur in the years to come.

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**A/N: Up next: we see how they are doing seven years later. I should update soon, but you know how life is... **

**Anyway, yeah, this was short, but it's also the prologue and those are typically short. I know my writing isn't the best yet, but I'm working on it.**

**Comments appreciated!**

**Thanks!  
-**

**TempestWolf999**


	2. Chapter 1

**Alright, then. Here is Chapter 1.**

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P.o.V. - Sherlock

He stared at the spider intently as it worked it's way across the off-white textured ceiling. He wasn't supposed to be there, and he knew it. He just didn't care. Beside him, his phone buzzed, signaling a text message. He grabbed the phone and opened the screen.

_Where are you? -MH_

Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Mycroft was a control freak. When Sherlock had turned twelve, he had convinced him that they had to run away. Sherlock had gone with him, and almost instantly regretted the decision. He texted back:

_Somewhere where you won't find me. -SH_

Mycroft always called him melodramatic, but in his opinion, he never took it too far.

_Come back now. -MH_

The spider made it to the corner and began to spin it's web. Sherlock watched it's intricate dance carefully, taking note of each step. He didn't bother with texting his brother back. It would be a waste of time. He just stared at the arachnid and let his thoughts consume him. He was fourteen-old enough to take care of himself.

Glancing at the phone screen again, Sherlock saw that it was 7:04 p.m.. Cursing under his breath, he jumped up and started towards the entrance of the abandoned building. He had to get out as soon as possible. At about seven each night, a group of druggies came in and did whatever they did. Sherlock wasn't too keen on meeting them face to face. He made it to the window just in time to run into them.

Great.

There were seven of them- all in leather jackets and whatnot. Two of them were smoking. The leader saw him and smiled. Sherlock glanced at him warily.

_Alcoholic father.  
__Mother works overtime.  
No siblings.  
Two dogs- German shepherds.  
Unintelligent.  
Bad grades in school.  
kleptomaniac._

"Hey, kid. Whatcha doin' here?" he said.

"Nothing."

"Ya sure?"

"I was just leaving."

Several of them laughed. Sherlock didn't understand how that was supposed to be funny.

"I'll tell you what," the leader said, stepping closer. "You seem like a good kid. I'd be willing to sell to ya."

"Sell what?"

He stepped closer again. None of the others moved. "Whadda ya want?"

"To leave."

Sherlock counted them again. There was the leader and five others. He could have sworn there were seven. Yes, there had been seven of them. Turning around, he saw the other one right behind him.

"I'll give ya yer first dose free," the leader said. "The rest you gotta buy. We're here at night all da time."

This was why he had wanted to leave.

"I'm not interested."

The guy behind him grabbed his wrists and the leader pulled out a syringe. They injected something into his arm, then dropped him.

"Ya know where ta fine me when ya want more. Unless yer still not interested."

The group went inside, leaving Sherlock on the ground. He tried to get up, but he was dizzy and his vision was swimming. He propped himself up against a wall and tried to think. It was hard. Whatever they had given him slowed his brain down, and he hated it. He finally managed to get to a shadow of the building and transport himself home. That had been part of the reason that they ran away- being able to do things that they shouldn't have been able to do.

He landed on the floor by Mycroft's desk.

"Well, brothermine, you actually decided to show up?"

Sherlock still felt dizzy.

"Shut up, Mycroft."

He vacantly heard his brother put his book down.

"You're slurring."

Was he? No, that didn't make sense.

"No..."

At this point, Mycroft was standing. He practically dragged Sherlock to the couch and made him sit down.

"Look at the light."

Sherlock hated the light with a passion. He would absolutely not voluntarily look at it. He managed to shake his head.

Mycroft growled something and forcefully made him stare at the chandelier. Then he muttered a curse.

"What did you take? What happened?"

Sherlock shrugged.

Mycroft made him lie down and try to sleep, leaving a water glass next to him.

"You're in trouble."

He didn't have the strength to reply. The dizziness took over as he trudged into the mysterious realm that is sleep.

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P.o.V. - James Moriarty

Idiots. They were all senseless idiots.

He smiled his fake charismatic smile at people, greeted them politely, and told jokes. They didn't notice anything. They didn't understand anything. They were stupid. Useless. Imbeciles.

One of the Sophomores came up to him grinning.

"Hey, Jim! What's up?"

He forced a smile. "The sky. How are you, Carl?"

Carl Powers kept grinning. In all honesty, Jim thought that it was slightly disturbing.

"Ha, funny. I'm better than you, I bet. Won the swim meet yesterday!"

"That's great!"

People are stupid. So, so stupid.

"Yeah. Can you swim?"

"No."

Carl laughed. "Seriously? Dude, I gotta teach you. You could drown, ya know. You're short and it rains a lot in London!"

He gave a fake laugh. "Could you?"

"Sure. Tomorrow after school? I'll meet you at the pool. Hey, look at that, I'm a poet! See ya then, Jim!"

Carl walked away laughing.

Stupid.

After school, Jim went to his small collection of poisons and grabbed his vile of Clostridium botulinum. Carl had eczema. Therefore he had medication. He just had to put the poison in the medication.

Then next day after school, he met Carl at their assigned destination. Carl walked out to the water and stopped.

"Oh, Jim. This goes in my bag. Can you put it there?"

Jim smiled and took the medication. Once he was in the locker room, he put in the poison. Then he went back to the pool. Carl showed off many elegant strokes, then got out of the pool.

"Understand?"

Jim smiled and nodded.

"Good. Come on."

They went into the locker room. Carl put the medication on his feet, then his sock and shoes.

"Oh, wait!" Jim said.

Carl stopped.

"Yeah?"

"You forgot to show me how to float."

Carl smiled at him as if he were a small child and took off his sock and shoes.

"Alright," he said. They went back to the pool, and Carl got into the water. He suddenly froze up and began to panic. Jim smiled, lifting up his hands and watching the flames lick around his fingers.

"I never did like water."

"Help me!" Carl cried.

"Hmm, no... I'd really rather not."

Carl fell back into the pool, staring at Jim. His eyes were full of fear.

Jim kept eye contact and said, "You laughed at me."

Then he got up and left with the shoes, leaving Carl Powers behind to die.

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**There'll be more later. Thanks for reading!**

**TempestWolf999**


	3. Chapter 2

**Thanks to LookAgain for being the first to review!**

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P.o.V. - C.A. Magnussen

People were the epitome of simplicity itself.

They did whatever he wanted them to if he asked in the right way. For example, if a guy at school didn't want people knowing that he'd cheated on his girlfriend, he did as Charles said. That guy's pressure point was his girlfriend. If that girlfriend's father had to do illegal work to support the family, and she didn't want anyone knowing this, her pressure point was her father. The father cares for his daughter, and Charles knows certain people who don't like her much. His pressure point was his daughter. Therefore, if he controlled the father or the daughter, he controlled the guy who just happened to have the sandwich he wanted for lunch today.

Simplicity itself.

Some people were harder to pinpoint, but he'd managed to successfully blackmail all of them but one.

He'd made a place for himself called Appledore. Appledore was his sanctuary- the place where he went over them in his head again and again. They had no proof against him. He memorized the material, quoted it, and had them shaking in fear. He didn't consider it blackmail. Oh, no- it was _business_\- a trade of secrecy for whatever Charles wanted.

He didn't like being called Charles. It sounded too- mundane, if you will. Commonplace. he preferred to be called by his surname.

Magnussen was the name people spoke of in fear.

He knew their secrets.

The funny thing was, they never looked for his secret. He had one, yes. It was dangerous.

He almost literally had a heart of stone.

He could manipulate them as well as he could people- dirt, stones, plants, etc.

But nobody knew.

And nobody ever would.

P.o.V. - Molly Hooper

Life was so beautiful. It was bright and cheerful and fun. The day was bright, and the night was quiet.

Life was as amazing as the daytime.

It really was a shame she worked in the morgue.

Yes, she was fourteen. Yes, it was weird.

But being a pathologist's assistant wasn't all bad (at least- that's what she told herself).

Washing her hands several times, Molly stared in the mirror. It was odd, her aunt and legal guardian had said. She's been born with brown eyes. The doctor said that those eyes never changed. But Molly's eyes were the color of sunlight- a bright whitish yellow.

Her aunt knew what she could do, and she never told anyone.

What could she do?

Light. She could manipulate light and mostly everything in nature that made day _day._

But it was mostly light.

Her aunt called her radiant.

Molly hoped that she wasn't actually bioluminescent.

She walked out of the mortuary and out onto the busy streets of London. Checking her phone and seeing no missed calls or new text messages, she began to walk home. She could have taken a taxi, but, well, she was enjoying the day.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't notice the person right in front of her. They collided.

"Hey!"

"Sorry," Molly apologized sincerely as she helped the person up. He was a guy about her age with curly black hair and silver eyes.

He glanced at her warily and said, "Why?"

She blinked. "Well, I _did_ just run into you and knock you over."

He stared at her in the same cautious manner for what seemed like hours. She studied him. He wore a long black trench coat and a blue scarf. His eyes were piercing, but somewhat clouded over. He was taller than her, but that was normal. She was actually surprised she'd been able to knock him over, due to his height... oh.

"Do you- um..."

"Take drugs?"

She blinked. "How did you-"

"No matter to both of those. I should be going. Farewell, Molly Hooper."

"How did you-"

"Your ID."

She glanced at the card sticking out of her pocket. He started walking away.

"Wait," Molly called.

He stopped.

"I never got your name."

He studied her curiously. "Sherlock Holmes."

She nodded. "I'll see you around, Sherlock."

"You probably won't."

And then he was gone.

Molly walked home and entered the flat. Her aunt was in the kitchen, cooking.

"You're late, Molly. I was getting worried."

"Sorry, Aunt Jenny. I ran into someone and knocked them over."

Aunt Jenny looked at her inquisitively. "You were able to knock someone over?"

"Well, he might have been high..."

Jenny waved her hand in dismissal. "Never mind that. It's not every day- you know what? We're going to celebrate. On Friday, We'll go to that ice-cream shop after dinner. As it turns out, you have a bit of fiestyness in you after all."

Molly rolled her eyes. Her aunt always had been a bit strange. She set the table for dinner.

Life is beautiful.

P.o.V. - Eurus Holmes

She watched them carefully as she always did.

It wasn't that they were a danger- not necessarily. They weren't clever enough to be dangerous.

They only clever people she knew were Sherlock and Mycroft. And Jim. Definitely Jim as well. It was humorous, really; the only clever people she knew of were either her brothers or some kid she met who was walking somewhere with a pair of tennis shoes that clearly weren't his. Not that anyone else would notice. Sherlock had. Sherlock and Eurus. Only them.

She'd been clumsy, she supposed. The had found out about her abilities-both intellectual and elemental-and locked her up. It reminded her of her aunt Rhody. They'd all called her insane, and then she'd disappeared. For all Eurus knew, she could be in the neighboring cell.

Grabbing her violin, she played a bit. It was dreadfully boring-all the guards and scientist who thought themselves to be clever. They feared her. They'd locked her up. It was almost funny. she smiled as they listened to her play and began to sing an eerie, cryptic melody.

It was hilarious, their reaction was. They were disturbed. It was the childish aspect of it- turning a children's song into something morbid. They didn't like it. Ironic really.

They really were just so stupid.

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**This one was a little rushed, sorry. Thanks for reading!**

**TempestWolf999**


	4. Chapter 3

**Here's chapter 3. Now that I got some character introductions and stuff done, this should have more plot. Hope you enjoy!**

**If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

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Sherlock P.o.V

At times, Sherlock hated a lot of things. Now was one of those times.

He hated the gang that got him hooked on drugs. He hated the drugs that caused him to OD. He hated the hospital for being _so freaking white_ and he hated Mycroft for thinking that he needed help. Luckily for Sherlock and unluckily for Mycroft, they weren't normal and therefore could not seek professional help. Mycroft's solution? School.

Sherlock, due to his excessive intellect, was far above his age group and didn't go to a public school. He abhorred the idea of constant socialization, especially with people who were so... primitive. And then there were his abilities.

Mycroft's were actually useful. He could control water somehow. Sherlock's were not the most helpful. The one he used the most was traveling through the darkness to get places faster, although he could do other things as well.

"Come on, Sherlock. Stop being so childish. High school is not hell. You'll survive."

Just as Sherlock was about to say that High School _was_ in fact hell, Mycroft interrupted again.

"I'm sure you'll make lots of friends."

Sherlock scoffed and threw himself on the sofa.

"Well? Go make yourself look somewhat acceptable. We leave in ten minutes. And do try to tame your hair."

Sherlock threw on some clothes and put on his long black coat. He didn't try to tame his hair. Going back to Mycroft, he poured himself a cup of coffee, choked it down without sugar, and glanced at his brother disdainfully. Mycroft took his umbrella and walked out the door, Sherlock following reluctantly behind him.

Once they got to the school building, Mycroft told Sherlock to get out, then drove away to go to his 'minor' governmental job. Sherlock walked inside the stone brick building and went to the main office. A lady sat at the front and smiled at him as he came in.

"Hello. What may I do for you?"

Sherlock looked at her.

_Happily married 10+ years.  
3 cats.  
No children.  
Ate toast for breakfast._

"I need my schedule."

"Alright. Name?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

She rummaged through some files in a drawer and pulled out 2 papers.

"One is a map of the school, and the other is your schedule. Your Homeroom teacher is Mrs. Hudson at room 221B. Take care!"

Sherlock left the office without another word and went up the stairs to find said room. He walked down the hall until he arrived. Upon entering, he saw an lady sitting at the front desk and a bunch of students' desks that were labeled with names. Great. He found his desk in the second row in the middle. On his sides were someone named John Watson and Philip Anderson.

Eventually, all of the students arrived and Mrs. Hudson started to call off names.

"Anderson, Phillip?"

"Here."

Sherlock stopped paying attention for a bit.

"Donovan, Sally?"

"Here."

_God, _Sherlock thought, _If this is how boring it is normally..._

"Eriksonn, Beau?"

"Here."

"Grace, Madilynn?"

"Here."

"Holmes, Sherlock?"

He looked up. "What?"

Mrs. Hudson gave him a look and kept going.

"Hooper, Molly?"

"Here."

"Lestrade, Greg?"

"Present."

Sherlock zoned out for a bit after that, then decided that he'd better observe some of his classmates.

"Kitty Madison?"

"Here."

She was a single child, right handed, and good at math.

"Moriarty, James?"

"Yes?" a kid in the back drawled. He had an Irish lilt to his sing-song voice.

"Yara O'Connors?"

"Here."

"Tony Rivers?"

"Here."

"Watson, John?"

"Here."

"Then that's everyone. Marvelous. Today we're just going to get to know each other. We'll go down the line and I want you to say your name, age, grade, and three interesting things about yourself. Philip, you go first."

"Philip Anderson. 14. Freshman. Um, I like being called Anderson, not Phillip. I have no pets, and, uh, I'm really smart."

Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

A girl went next, then Sally Donovan. After Sally was Beau, then a girl, then Sherlock. He grimaced.

"Sherlock Holmes. 14. Grade 11. I'm a high functioning sociopath, I don't like people, and there isn't anything you need to know about me."

He thought he did well. Curse Mycroft for the psychiatrist, though.

Mrs. Hudson blinked. "Alright, then. Molly next.''

He recognized Molly. She'd run into him on the street, literally.

He stopped listening for awhile, uninterested in his peers. Then James Moriarty's creepy sing-song voice broke through his haze, and he realized that there were four people left.

"Jim Moriarty. Hi! 14. Grade 11."

That got Sherlock's attention.

"I only have one weakness, I know a lot about poisons, and I like fire."

Jim kept this weird grin on his face the whole time. Some of the kids laughed, some just smiled and nodded. Sherlock glanced over at the clock. After that, everyone else went, ending with John Watson. He was interesting. He'd just been on a vacation to the south, and had had a traumatic time there and injured his shoulder. Yet, he was stable.

"For your first assignment, you will pick a partner and write an essay together on whatever you want. You have five minutes to pick your partner," Mrs. Hudson ordered.

Sherlock turned to John. "You want to do it on revolvers, then?"

John jumped, playing with his phone nervously. "How did you-?"

"Texas or Arizona?"

"What?"

"Were you in Texas or Arizona?"

"Arizona-How did you know that I've been to the states?"

"So you want to do the essay on revolvers?"

"You want to do the essay with me? We know nothing about each other."

"I know that you have recently been the the U.S. in Arizona. I know that, while you were there, you were shot in the shoulder and injured. You have a limp, and your therapist says it is psychosomatic, quite correctly. You have an older brother who cares about you, but you aren't close. You don't like that he drinks. He recently broke up with his girlfriend, who had a considerable amount of money. I think that's enough to go on, don't you?"

"That... was brilliant."

Sherlock blinked. "You think so?"

"Yeah. Fantastic."

"That's not what people usually say."

"What do they usually say?"

"'Piss off!'"

They stared at each other blankly for a minute, then burst out laughing.

"Okay, so we're doing the essay on revolvers?" John asked.

"I suppose. Although I know more about chemistry and all that."

"How are you in grade 11 when you're 14?"

"I'm clever. I'm not the only one, though."

They both glanced at Jim Moriarty, who was doing the assignment with Molly Hooper.

"That guy's creepy."

"He is."

The bell rang, and they went off the their respective classes.

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**A/N: Okay, so I promise this is not a High school AU. That's just part of the plot.**

**The school thing reminded me of a kid who was in my eighth grade class. He was bullied because he wasn't very good in school. People thought he was stupid, but he was really good at music and sports. Bullying someone because they seem unintelligent isn't okay, guys. If you agree, comment this (***).**

**Thanks!**

**TempestWolf999**


	5. Chapter 4

**And here I am again. Sorry for the wait!**

**Thanks to catspaw202 and 6liesix6 for your favorites and follows!**

**Shout outs:**

**seafarer: glad you like it! I hope you keep reading.**

**6liesix6: I will continue! Thanks! (Should I be writing in Spanish?)**

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P.o.V. - C.A. Magnussen

He knew that he couldn't be the only one with inhuman abilities. It just wasn't logical.

He'd watched his parents and relatives closely. They showed no signs of anything remotely similar to what he could do. So it wasn't genetic. But what was it?

He kept an eye out for anyone or anything that caught his attention regarding the matter. He saw nothing.

It was odd, really.

Magnussen tilted his glass back so that the golden liquid it held sparkled in the sunlight. He usually didn't drink whiskey. It was too cheap. But he was having a bad day, so he drank the cheap stuff.

His P.A., Janine, walked in and put a pile of papers on his desk. Letters, he saw they were. Letters from 'important' people begging him to spare their reputation for a considerable sum of money.

He never took it.

He always played his cards carefully, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It always worked. His methods were set in stone- ironic, considering what he could do- and they had yet to fail him. He was untouchable.

"My appointment with Lady Smallwood?" He asked Janine before she left the room.

"At 9:30, sir," she said as she walked out.

He closed his green eyes and drank the rest of the whiskey. Then he waited.

Lady Smallwood was not a soft and emotional person. She was down-to-earth and tense. She refused to sit when he offered her a chair.

"You have some documents that I would like returned," she stated.

He smiled.

"I'm sure you would like the letters," he said. "Shame. They aren't for sale. They won't go to anyone else if you cooperate."

"What do you want?"

He cleaned his glasses and idly replied, "Full access to government files would be spectacular."

She paled.

"You are a sick, repulsive monster. I cannot allow that."

He frowned, eyes glittering.

"Pity."

* * *

Eurus P.o.V.

She was tired of it.

She was tired of the injections and the medications and the scientists.

They made it hard to focus on reality. They talked at her, but not to her as if she didn't exist. When they did acknowledge her existence, they treated her like an animal.

She wanted to leave Sherrinford and go back to her brothers- Sherlock especially. He always had been her favorite.

Mycroft knew what was happening to her. He actually visited her sometimes. But he never made a move to help her- to save her. He just watched.

Sherlock would have helped her. She knew it. The two of them always had been close. She wanted to get out. To leave.

Eurus had never tried to escape before. She'd thought about it, but never actually tried.

A scientist walked up to the glass and asked the guard, "Specimen's age?"

So she was a _specimen_ then. Of course. Nothing but a lab rat.

The guard shrugged.

The scientist growled in frustration, then did the unspeakable- she _talked _to Eurus.

"How old are you, sweetie?"

Did she expect her to fall on her knees and tell her even though she had just practically called her a guinea pig? She was stupid. Like all of them. They were all stupid.

"My age is not your concern," she said flatly.

The scientist smiled. "But it is, dear. Please tell me your birthdate."

Fine, then.

"You are a single parent engaged to a business owner. You are marrying him for his money. You graduated college two years ago. You are here to-"

"Stop it sweetie," she said with a horrible fake smile. "Just tell me your name."

"Tell me yours."

The scientist frowned. "Jean Mallows."

"Now tell me your age."

"34."

"Now open the door to my cell, or something bad will happen to Christie."

She opened the door, and Eurus walked out. The scientists that came were so stupid. So easy.

She struck Jean Mallows over the head to knock her out and then went to go home.

The East Wind was returning to England.

* * *

Mycroft P.o.V.

To say that he was surprised to see his sister on his doorstep was an understatement. He didn't even invite her in. She just... walked.

"Eurus! What the _bloody hell_ are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, brother dear.''

She was just like Sherlock. Only female. And more... patronizing.

"I'm back from that horrible place, if you care. And I'm not going back."

There was a defiant tone to her voice that told him that she really wasn't going back, even if he tried to force her to. She'd just escape again.

"Yeah, I see that. But the government wants you there, and I work for the government. If they find that I even had contact with you, then-"

"Where's Sherlock?"

"Are you even listening?" He snapped.

"No, of course not. where is he?"

Mycroft glared at her. "School."

"When will he be home?"

"Three thirty. And you will be back in Sherrinford by then."

"No I won't."

Mycroft glanced at the clock. It was three twenty.

"Eurus, you-"

"Will be here when Sherlock gets here? Yes, I know that."

He glared at her and was about to scold her again when the front door opened and Sherlock walked in.

He looked at Eurus, then Mycroft, then Eurus again. Finally, he said, "You said she had died."

He suddenly felt guilty, then angry at himself for feeling that way. Caring is not an advantage.

"I know. And she will be going back to where she was, so don't get attached."

Eurus and Sherlock glared at him simultaneously.

At that moment, he knew it.

He was dead.

"Fine. Eurus, you can stay in the guest room."

He really hated himself at that point.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry again for taking so long! I've been super busy, then I got a bad case of Writer's Block...**

**Next chapter should be up soon (hopefully).**

**Thanks!**

**TW999**


	6. Chapter 5

**Eurus is gonna be a bit OOC in this because she got out of Sherrinford at an earlier age and isn't as... out of it. **

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

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James Moriarty P.o.V

It wasn't that he hated Molly Hooper. He just hated Molly Hooper.

She insisted on making "small talk," as they call it, the whole time they worked on the essay.

"So, you're in grade 11?"

"Yes."

"Well... you must be smart, then."

"Yes."

"Are you just saying 'yes' to everything I say?"

She actually caught on. He was surprised.

"Yes," Jim sang.

Molly shook her head and wrote the last sentence down. They signed the paper and handed it in. Day 2 of the school year and he'd already killed someone. Okay, maybe he had killed Carl during summer school, but it made no difference.

School was boring. He hated it. The only interesting thing there was Sherlock Holmes, who was supposedly as smart as he was. He watched him. That was it. The rest was boring. Well, it would have been, if Sherlock hadn't brought his sister to school.

"Class, this is Eurus Holmes. She wasn't able to come here yesterday. Eurus, please state your name, grade, age, and three interesting things about yourself," Mrs. Hudson announced.

Eurus blinked. "Eurus Holmes. 14. Grade 11. The average human has about 9 pints of blood in their body. Humans are the only extant members of the subtribe Hominina. The human brain is capable of creating more ideas equivalent to that of the atoms of the universe."

"Right..." Mrs. Hudson stated. "Well, this year we are going to do projects based on the theme 'Anti-bullying'. Our first project will just be making posters to hang around the school. You can come up to get supplies."

Jim growled. What did she think they were, kindergarteners?

"Each grade will work on a poster. Grade 9 will be there, 10 there, 11 there, and 12 here. You may begin."

Jim rolled his eyes and walked over to the designated area. Sherlock and Eurus were already there.

"Gavin Lestrade is getting the supplies for... this," Sherlock said, gesturing to nowhere.

Jim nodded.

Lestrade came over and sat down with a box of pencils and markers and a sheet of poster board.

"So, um...," he said, coughing awkwardly.

"Grayson! You're the oldest. You're supposed to-"

"It's _Greg_, Sherlock! _Greg!_ And I expect you genius kiddos to help out, because I have zero artistic talent."

Sherlock groaned and stared at the ceiling. Eurus stared at the wall. Greg looked as if he were about to explode.

Jim tried not to laugh.

The rest of that class was ancient history.

Their poster looked terrible.

Jim got home from school and threw his bag at the wall. He'd been homeless for years, and had more than a few accomplices. He refused to call them friends. He didn't have friends.

None of them knew what he could do, of course. He'd rather keep it that way.

He was rich for a homeless kid. He ran his own network of criminals and whatnot. It paid well.

His phone chimed. He picked it up.

_You killed Carl Powers. -SH_

Sherlock had caught him, then. He smiled. Sherlock wouldn't turn him in. He couldn't.

_Yep. Proud of me? The botulinum poison worked wonderfully. -JM_

He didn't receive a response to that.

Throwing his phone on his bed, he stared at the ceiling. Lifting his hand, he let the flames lick around his fingers. The fire cast an orange glow around the room. It was almost hypnotic.

His phone chimed again.

_Proud? Of course not. The shoes are what gave you away. To me, at least. Everyone in the police force is an idiot. -SH_

He smiled and typed,

_To the victor goes the spoils. Carl had it coming. He laughed at me. -JM_

* * *

P.o.V. - YOU

_You creep along the side of the building, watching and waiting for your target to show himself. He does. You strike._

Catch them. Bind them. Blind them. Cut them.

_It's how you work. It always will be._

_This one struggles. You tie him to a telephone pole and proceed in your sacred process._

_You caught him._

_You bound him._

_Now you gouge out his eyes._

_He screams. They all do. _

_It gives you a rush of adrenaline. You love it._

_Finally, your favorite part. You save the best for last. You are patient._

_And it always pays off._

_You take out your knife and drag it across his skin, watching as the blood seeps out of the cuts. It's beautiful._

_It's art._

_Finally, you slit the wrists and leave._

_He will die on his own. Alone._

_Just like you are._

* * *

Sherlock P.o.V.

_"- a ghastly serial killer haunting the streets of London. He has struck three times now, his latest victim being 34 year old Frank Roswell. Police say that he tortures his victims by tying them up, blinding them, and then cutting them with a knife so that they bleed out. Officer Hopkins, who is in charge of the case, advises people not to go places alone, and-"_

Mycroft turned off the TV and threw the remote on the sofa.

"I got your papers. You're legally free now," he said to Eurus. She nodded.

Sherlock stared at the television. "You think the serial-"

"You will not go looking for trouble, Sherlock," Mycroft snapped warningly.

Sherlock shrugged. "They made a mistake, though," he said.

"What's that?"

"They said 'he'," Eurus stated for him.

Sherlock nodded. "When tracking killers like this, they're supposed to think like the killer or the victim. They don't use 'he' or 'she'."

Mycroft rolled his eyes, probably humoring them. Sherlock hated it when he did that.

"What do they do, then?"

"They use 'I'," Eurus said, "Or-"

"You."

* * *

**A/N: I finally get to add some plot! Yay!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**TW999**


	7. Chapter 6

**Thanks to the reviewers! If anyone was confused by the "YOU" P.o.V. in the last chapter, it's a new thing I'm trying out. It's written in 2nd person and should (hopefully) add a bit of mystery/creepiness into this. I won't do it every chapter.**

* * *

Molly P.o.V

One word to describe Sherlock's sister?

_Dysfunctional._

Molly was usually kind to everyone, even if they were jerks. She'd willingly done an essay with James flipping Moriarty, for Heaven's sake! But Eurus Holmes... She was on a level of her own. It was as if she wasn't fully there. She clung to Sherlock too- not physically gripping his wrist, but staying near him and glaring at anyone who came near them. She was like a wild animal.

Unpredictable.

Hostile.

And now she was sitting across from Eurus in the cafeteria.

Why she'd come to sit there, Molly had no idea. It was because, she supposed, that Eurus was always with Sherlock who was always with John who insisted on being nice to people and, much to Sherlock's horror, socially acceptable.

In other words, John actually talked to people at lunch time.

The cafeteria food was far from good. In fact, more people brought food than those who didn't. But Molly had the unfortune of sleeping in, so she ate what the cafeteria had to offer.

"So, Molly," John suddenly said, jolting her out of her reverie. "Did you hear about the serial killer?"

Oh. Right. That.

"Yeah," she said. "Saw it on the news. Creepy."

"The police are doing a-"

"Shut up, Sherlock," John interrupted. "Just because the police aren't doing the investigation your way doesn't mean they're idiots."

Sherlock gave him a look. Molly almost laughed.

John sighed. "Alright, fine. They don't have the best reputation for being geniuses. But they're capable."

"Hardly," Eurus said. It was the first time she'd spoken the entire lunch period, and everyone turned to her in surprise.

"What do you mean?" Molly asked.

"They did it all wrong."

"Not all-" John started.

"Yes, _all_,'' Sherlock snapped. "They even used the wrong pronoun." His phone chimed.

Molly blinked. "The wrong _pronoun_? What-"

"Got to go," Sherlock said as he stood up. John and Eurus stood as well.

"No," Sherlock said. "Just me." Then he left. Molly saw him go towards the hallway that led to the gym. Then she saw Jim Moriarty.

"Uh..."

"Yeah, we saw," John said. ''You think we should-?"

"No. He'll be fine," Eurus said.

They waited in awkward silence for a few minutes eating. Molly choked down the cafeteria food.

Then the fire alarm went off.

* * *

Eurus P.o.V

It startled her at first. Then she saw people panicking, and she knew what was going on.

Taking out the mobile device Mycroft had given her, she texted Sherlock.

_Where are you, and what did you do? - EH_

She hoped that it would get the point across.

People had started to evacuate the building. Teachers were trying to get the children in order. it was chaos.

Her mobile chimed.

_Get John, Molly, and Gordon L. and meet me in the gym. Assistance required. -SH_

Growling under her breath, she grabbed John and Molly by their wrists and dragged them off to find Lestrade.

After talking to the two idiots and explaining what they had to do, Molly and John cooperated and they were able to find him. He was helping the younger ones get out. She began to smell smoke. She hadn't noticed it before, but now it was definitely there.

They went to the gym and found Sherlock and Moriarty...

They were playing chess.

Her brother and Moriarty were playing chess in the middle of a gym that was burning down.

It was something Sherlock would do, and she wouldn't put it past Moriarty. But seeing them there calmly playing their game annoyed her.

They walked to the middle of the gym. The smoke got thicker around them. This was where the fire had started.

"I brought your pets," she said to Sherlock.

He hummed. "Check, your move. Yes, I see that. You got my message. Good."

Lestrade coughed. "Sherlock, what-"

"Shut up. Stalemate. We needed to evacuate the building," Jim said.

Eurus had caught on the second the fire started. The others had not.

"_What? _Sherlock, you had something to do with this?" John snapped. Molly seemed to be frozen with anxiety. Foolish girl.

"Yes..." Sherlock said patiently, lifting his head from the chess board. His silver eyes glowed red in the dim light.

Lestrade cursed.

"So what are we doing?" Eurus asked.

Jim turned to face them. His expression was creepier than Sherlock's, as his eyes were naturally reddish orange. "We're going on the lam, my dear," he drawled.

"Wait- what?" Molly asked. Her hands were shaking.

"On the lam means-"

"I know what it means, Sherlock. But am I a hostage or something?"

Jim laughed.

Sherlock was bemused. "No, of course not. You're coming with because you're like us."

"What?"

Jim sighed impatiently and set his hand on fire. Eurus smirked at the others' expressions.

"Lets go," Jim sang. "I'm getting impatient."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and got up and they left through the gym exit. Once they got outside, they went to the forest by the school and began to walk.

"So... Sherlock?" John asked.

"What?"

"Me and Lestrade can't light ourselves on fire or anything. Why are we here?"

"Because we need normal people with us," Eurus answered.

"Oh."

"And how did Moriarty's hand light on fire?"

"Invisible matches, Graham," Sherlock snapped sarcastically. "No, he's good with fire. He can control it. Eurus controls air, Molly day, and me night. My brother can control water."

"Right. So why are we running away?" John asked.

"Government found us," Jim said. "I don't really feel like living in a lab."

Eurus remembered Sherrinford and growled under her breath.

"So where are we going?" Molly asked.

"To find our brother," Eurus answered.

* * *

**A/N: There it is! Thanks for reading!**

**TW999**


	8. Chapter 7

**Thanks to all reviewers!**

**Just a warning: The "YOU" P.o.V. in this one is a _bit_ graphic. Not too bad, but it's kinda meant to be disturbing, so... yes. There is a bit of blood and gore. It's rated T for a reason.**

* * *

Mycroft p.o.v

In his defense, they had startled him.

He didn't really mean to turn Sherlock's... friend? into a human icicle. It just sort of... happened.

Not that he particularly liked the kids in the first place.

"Mycroft, if you would, ah, unfreeze Moriarty, I could explain..." Sherlock said.

"Since when do you have friends?"

It was the only retort that came to mind at the time. He didn't really want to, but he turned to the kid to unfreeze him. What he saw was... surprising, to say the least. Moriarty was on fire. Water was dripping off of his clothes and evaporating into steam from the blaze.

"Chill, Iceman," he said. "That is no way to treat your guests."

His voice had an Irish lilt to it and was high-pitched and... sing-song-y. He hated the kid even more then.

"Sherlock..."

"Well, brother dear, some people in the government want us in laboratories. I'm sure you knew that already. But anyway, since the serial killer that has been, ah, 'terrorizing London' started as soon as Eurus was set free, then-"

Mycroft put up his had to silence him. It was a problem. The government wanted more people like Eurus to experiment on. Mycroft, with his high position in the government, was able to get past it. Sherlock and the others, however...

"How many of your friends-"

"Jim and Molly."

"Right. And what can they do?"

"Fire and..." Sherlock glanced at Molly.

"Oh! Um, I can do stuff with... like, light and... stuff..." Molly stuttered.

Mycroft nodded slowly. "So we have night, air, water, fire, and day. Five of the six elements. Interesting. And the other two?"

"Gary's father is the chief superintendent of Scotland Yard. John is John."

He raised an eyebrow. Sherlock sounded almost... sentimentally attached.

"Be careful, Sherlock. Remember Redbeard?"

Sherlock bristled at glared at him. It was a touchy subject and he knew it, but it was necessary.

Lestrade coughed. "Right. So, why are we here?"

Sherlock turned and glared at him. "Because the government's after us, obviously!"

Jim laughed.

"Right," John deadpanned. "Obviously."

"Can I... call my aunt?" Molly asked.

Mycroft nodded and she took out her mobile.

"They might trace that," Eurus said.

Mycroft nodded. "What do you plan on doing then, brothermine?"

Sherlock glanced at the clock. "Oh... I might test the different reactions strychnine mixed with mercury has on frogs and rats... or-"

"With your... friends."

He blinked. "Oh. They can sleep in the living room."

He stalked off to his room.

"Where'd he get mercury?" Moriarty sounded jealous.

"The dark web I'd imagine," Mycroft said. "Ask him."

Jim went to do so and John followed him. John always seemed to be following Sherlock.

_Like a puppy, _Mycroft thought. _How fitting._

Eurus walked off to her room, probably to sleep like any sensible human would. Lestrade and Molly stood there awkwardly.

"You can sleep in Eurus' room," Mycroft said to Molly. And to Lestrade, "You can sleep... where ever. I don't recommend Sherlock's room."

With that, he went to his own room to sleep. He was beyond tired.

* * *

P.o.V. - YOU

_You aren't like them. They're mice in comparison to you. _

_Your next target will be fun. You're sure on that. She's 12 years old. Children... they always seemed to understand more than adults._

_She's walking home from her ballet lesson right now. You follow her in the shadows. _

_Ballet. What a useless waste of time._

Catch them. Bind them. Blind them. Cut them.

_It's a mantra that goes over and over again in your head._

_You catch her. She struggles. She screams._

"Quiet," _You whisper in her ear. She struggles harder. Idiot._

_You tie her wrists with zipties and tie her to a "WRONG WAY" sign. The rope cuts into her skin. It's hypnotic almost. Mesmerizing. _

"Please," _she whimpers. _"Please, let me go. I never got to tell my mom I love her."_ She bursts into tears. _"The last thing we did was fight."

"Quiet," _You whisper again. You gouge out her eyes. She cries out in pain. You let the eyeballs hang from her face by the muscles. Her eyes had been blue. Beautiful. Gone. Gone forever. You were the last thing she'd seen._

_Taking out your knife, you drag it over her skin. Her arms, her face. She cries. Like a coward. That's what they all are. Cowards._

_Finally, she is art. Blood drips from the cuts and splatters on the concrete._

_You cut her jugular vein._

_She is gone._

_And so are you._

* * *

P.o.V. - Moriarty

It killed both the frog and the rat pretty quickly. Because poison is poison.

John kept glancing at him like he was the devil incarnate. He just grinned.

"What about earth?" John asked.

"What?"

"Well, Mycroft said that you guys had five of the six elements. The missing one is earth. What do you think?"

Sherlock turned from the rat he was dissecting. "Either he or she is out there, or they're not."

"I think they are," Jim said, "But that's just a guess."

John frowned. "Well-"

"We should try to find them? I think not," Sherlock said.

Jim nodded grimly. He agreed.

"Why not?"

Leave it to Johnny boy to be oblivious.

"Because there aren't many ways of telling friend from foe," Jim said.

* * *

P.o.V. - Magnussen

He almost laughed. They made everything on the television so... poetic.

_"-serial killer strikes again, killing 12 year old Emerson Bailey. Emerson was on her way home from her ballet class when she was captured and brutally murdered by the same notorious killer who has been terrifying London. The police so far have no new leads. Her family mourns her with deep sorrow. We can only hope that the killer is caught before he strikes again. Over to you, Michael, for the weather."_

No leads.

It wasn't surprising.

Helping himself to a glass of scotch, he settled down to do some paperwork.

He didn't believe in friend or enemies. he believed in people. Some were useful, some weren't.

And as he looked through the papers, he stumbled across someone who would be very useful indeed.

* * *

**And... done!**

**What did you think? Any ideas?**

**Thanks for reading!**

**TW999**


	9. Chapter 8

**Hello all! Special thanks to reviewers!**

**If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

* * *

P.o.V. - Molly

She had been afraid to fall asleep, but once she did, she slept as if she were dead.

Eurus had gotten up before her, so she was alone in the room. She got up and walked into the living room area where everyone else was.

There were two sofas and a coffee table in the room. Sherlock was doing something to the kitchen sink. John was still sleeping. Greg looked tired. Moriarty was on his phone, probably hacking government files or something. Eurus was... somewhere.

Greg smiled at her almost sympathetically and gestures to one of the couches as if to say, 'do whatever.' She sat on one of the sofas and took out her phone.

When she'd called her aunt, she'd said that she was spending the night at a friend's house. She felt bad lying, but felt that there was no other option.

"Will I be able to go home today?" she asked.

Sherlock looked up from the sink and stared at her like, _are you an idiot? _

"What?" she asked defensively.

"The government knows your identity and wants you in a lab. They know everything about you, from where you live to what you ate for breakfast three weeks ago. If you feel like being a specimen, by all means, go home," Sherlock said. He spoke as if it should all be perfectly obvious. She hated that about him.

Changing the subject she said, "Where's Eurus?"

Sherlock didn't answer, apparently finding the sink more interesting than people again. Greg gave him a look which he didn't see and said, "She went with Mycroft somewhere. I dunno where."

"Oh."

There was an awkward pause with the only audible sounds being John snoring, Sherlock playing with the sink, and Jim typing on his phone.

"Er... Sherlock?" Greg asked.

No response.

"Sherlock!"

"_What_?" Sherlock snapped impatiently.

"Two things," Greg said. "One, what are you doing? And two, should we wake John up?"

''Experiment and up to you."

"Right," Greg said, glancing at John and then back at Sherlock.

The front door opened. Molly turned to see Eurus and Mycroft walking in.

"Hi," she said, feeling very awkward.

Eurus stared at her like she was an alien and Mycroft nodded tiredly.

Sherlock walked over to where they were. "What is it?" he asked.

Mycroft sighed and walked past him to his room. Eurus shrugged, which surprised Molly. She hadn't seemed like the type to admit to not knowing something.

"Ooh, Iceman's a bit touchy today," Jim sang from his perch on the arm of the couch. It was the first time Molly had heard him speak that morning. She suspected that he was doing something illegal on his mobile.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Were you hacking governmental files?"

He stared at her for what felt like hours, then asked, "Do you consider Angry Birds governmental files?"

"You hacked Angry Birds?" Greg asked.

Jim shrugged. "I was bored."

"Great. Well, I hacked something useful," Sherlock said. "Anyone know anything about Charles Augustus Magnussen? And Geoffery, please wake John."

"_Greg,_ Sherlock."

"Same thing. So, Magnussen?"

"He's a blackmailer," Jim said. "I talked with him once."

"Right. Well, he blackmailed someone."

"Isn't that what blackmailers do...?" John asked drowsily as Greg shook him awake.

"It isn't a question of what John," Sherlock said. "It's a question of who."

"Who, then?" Molly asked.

Sherlock grinned. "First it was Lady Eva Smallwood. Now it's the British Government."

Molly frowned, confused. That was bad. And yet, Sherlock talked about it as if it were a person, not a council of people.

"Sorry, who?" John asked.

"Mycroft Holmes."

Molly stared in disbelief. Mycroft Holmes was not the British Government. And yet...

"Is it... bad?" she asked.

"Undoubtedly," Eurus replied.

She got the feeling that she wouldn't be seeing her aunt for awhile.

* * *

P.o.V. - Sherlock

The look on their faces was amusing, to say the least.

Then, of course, Mycroft had to come and ruin everything, because that's what he did best.

"Sherlock, are you really telling your friends bloody government secrets?"

His voice was calm, but that fooled nobody.

"Oh, never," he replied. "I just said that Magnussen has you under his thumb. What does he have for blackmail against you, I wonder? Your diet?"

"Don't try to be smart, Sherlock. I'm the smart one."

"Actually-" Eurus interjected.

"Alright, alright!" John shouted. "You're all bloody geniuses! Can we focus on the matter at hand now?"

"What about me?" Jim asked, mocking a hurt expression.

"You're just creepy," Lestrade said.

Jim fake-pouted, but shut up. Sherlock had to hand it to Gavin. It was a difficult task.

"So..." Molly tried. She flinched after she spoke as if her words would set off an atomic bomb.

"What does he have on you?" Eurus asked.

"None of your concern." Mycroft was tense. It was almost unnerving since he always insisted on being silver-tongued and aloof.

"Yes it is," Sherlock argued.

"It's not. Leave this alone, all of you. And if I find _any _evidence of hacking..." he trailed off, glaring at both Sherlock and Moriarty in turn. Once Mycroft turned, Jim winked and held up his mobile.

"You'll do what?" Sherlock asked, seemingly amused. He was. There wasn't really anything his brother could do.

"I'll turn you in."

He scoffed. "Ooh, blackmail. Ironic, isn't it?"

Jim grinned. "Very. What'll you turn me in for, Mr. Iceman?"

Mycroft glared. "I'm sure I'll find something."

"No you won't!" he was grinning hysterically. Sherlock found it creepy. "I never get caught."

Mycroft glared again. "Stay. Out. Of. It. That goes for all of you."

With that, the British Government stalked off to his room.

Eurus blinked. "You'll-"

"Definitely."

There was no way that he would stay out of something that was actually interesting.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading! Reviews are appreciated along with constructive criticism.**

**TempestWolf999**


	10. Chapter 9

**Hello! Special thanks to those who review! I haven't been doing shout-outs the last few chapters, but I'm going to start to do that again.**

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

**Shout outs:**

**Grammarosprey: Thanks for being an avid reviewer! Glad you think it's creepy. :) What _does _he have on Mycroft, I wonder? Haha, you'll have to find out!**

* * *

P.o.V. - Eurus

Blackmail was something she was familiar with. She had used her own form of it to reprogram the people in Sherrinford. She knew how to use it and how to stop it as long as she had sufficient information. But Mycroft, being the idiot he was, wouldn't give her sufficient information.

She had no experience in hacking, or she would be looking through top secret government files with Jim and Sherlock. Greg and John seemed bored. Molly seemed anxious.

"Did you find anything of relevance yet?" she asked.

"I found that he's allergic to peanuts," Jim responded. "And... nothing else of interest. Yet."

Sherlock looked up for a second, but made no other response. Eurus took that as his way of saying that he hadn't found anything.

"How does Mycroft being allergic to peanuts have anything to do with blackmail?" John asked.

"They could... assassinate him. With peanut butter. Or contaminate his food," Greg suggested.

John snorted in disbelief.

"It's happened," Molly said solemnly.

"How would you know?" Greg asked.

"I work in the morgue at Bart's. You hear a lot about strange deaths there."

"Oh."

Eurus took out her mobile device and sent a message to Mycroft.

_What is it? -EH_

She knew he got it and read it. It said so on the screen. But he didn't respond anything except,

_I'm busy. Bother Sherlock. -MH_

She growled under her breath and responded,

_He's actually working on something relevant, unlike you. Tell me. Now. -EH_

She received no response after that.

"Could this Magnussen guy possibly know about Mycroft's thing with water?" John asked.

Sherlock looked up. "What? Say that again."

"Mycroft's thing with water. Could the Magnussen guy have gotten that info somewhere?"

"That would be better blackmail than anything on here," Jim said.

"These are top secret government files. They are rarely in danger of being hacked, but it does happen, obviously. The only things he could have against Mycroft are things that threaten his life-"

"Like peanuts," Lestrade offered.

"...Yes..., or things the government can't know about him. He doesn't give in to... sentimental threats."

"He would," said Eurus. It was true. Mycroft wasn't a sociopath like Sherlock was. He had emotions. He just hid them well. Mycroft was susceptible to sentimental errors.

Sherlock threw her a look like, _what?_

She rolled her eyes at him. He wouldn't get it anyway.

"It's unlikely, anyway," Moriarty shrugged. "So Johnny boy actually might be right. Shame, we hacked a bunch of top secret files for no reason."

"_Maybe_ no reason," Sherlock corrected.

"Balance of probability."

"How would he have known?" Eurus asked. She, of course, had theories, but she wanted to hear their's.

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm the only one he could have had access to who knew besides Mycroft himself, and he didn't ask me. So then Mycroft must have told him. But he wouldn't do that."

"Who is Lady Eva Smallwood?" she asked.

"A colleague of his."

"He said that Magnussen blackmailed her... did she know?"

"Anthea."

"What?" John asked.

Sherlock snapped his fingers. "Well, not Anthea, really. She gets a new name almost every time I see her. She's Mycroft's P.A., and has been for years. If anyone had any chance of figuring it out, it would be her."

"Right, can I go home now?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock shrugged, "Ask Mycroft."

"But-"

"You'll just have to wait then."

"So... how could we see this P.A.?" John asked.

"Interrogate," Jim corrected.

"No..."

Eurus texted Mycroft again.

_Would Anthea tell anyone anything under pressure? -EH_

_No. She has a cyanide pill. She's also been tested. I told you to stay out of this. -MH_

"Not Anthea," Eurus informed them.

"Yes, but I don't know what her real name is, so-"

"No, Sherlock. Mycroft said she had a cyanide pill and she's been tested. It's not her."

"Someone's here," Molly said. "Do you get visitors?"

Sherlock glanced towards the front door and cocked his head like a dog. "That is not Mycroft."

There were three knocks, then footsteps walking away from the door. Eurus glanced at Sherlock, then grabbed a jar and walked toward the door. There was no sign of danger, just an envelope on the floor. She picked it up. There was no writing or any marks of any kind. She walked back to the others and held it up, setting the jar back on the table.

"Open it," Moriarty said.

She did. The envelope had been sealed with water, not by someone licking it shut.

Inside there was a piece of paper folded into fourths and five dried out apple seeds. She took out the paper and handed the envelope with the seeds to Molly, who was closest. She unfolded the paper.

A letter was typed out in Times New Roman typeface. The letters were small, but not unreadable. It said,

_Children,_

_You do not know me. But I know you. I know everything about you. There are  
__six of you and one of me, but you couldn't defeat me even if all of you came together.  
I know all of your weaknesses. I know all of your strengths. I know how your minds  
work. You don't know who the other one is yet. I do. Take your next step with caution. This  
is chess, __and I've just made my first move. Give me a good game and I might spare you. _

_~Your Adversary_

Jim frowned. "Well, _someone's _certainly egotistical."

"Chess,'' Eurus muttered. "They said it's a game of chess."

"It is," Sherlock said. His eyes were darting all over the paper. "They went first. That means they're playing as white. It is chess, but with no limits; no rules."

"Don't you think we should tell your brother about this?" Molly asked. She was scared.

"Mycroft probably already knows," John said. "Doesn't he work for the government?"

"Yes," Eurus said.

"But who are they?" Greg asked.

"Well, if we're gonna do this, we shouldn't do it wrong," Jim said.

"Who are they, then?" Molly asked.

"'They' are You," Sherlock said.

Molly managed to look terrified and offended at the same time. "_Me?_"

Eurus sighed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "No, not _you, _You. That's what you call an unidentified subject."

John frowned. "You call them You?"

"Or I, but I think we should go with the other one."

"Okay," Greg said, "So..."

"You sent us a letter because you want us to notice you," Sherlock said.

Molly winced, most likely because Sherlock sounded schizophrenic when he talked to the Adversary. Eurus narrowed her eyes at her.

"Or," Eurus said, "You want them to focus on us."

John frowned, but said nothing.

"What do we do?" Greg asked.

"Absolutely nothing."

"Very funny, Moriarty. But seriously, what do we do? And what do the apple seeds mean?"

"Nothing. We wait for You to make Your next move, and the apple seeds... apple seeds contain cyanide. It might be a warning. Anyway, you'll make a move again," Sherlock said.

"And when will that be?"

Soon," Eurus said. "Very, very soon."

* * *

**A/N: And... we still don't know what Magnussen has on Mycroft. Cue the evil laugh. I'm so mean... haha. Anyway, Reviews Are Much Appreciated. Please review and let me know what you think, what you like, what you don't like, what you want to see happen, etc. It helps a lot, believe it or not. Thank you all for reading!**

**TempestWolf999**


	11. Chapter 10

**I am SO sorry for taking so long to update. I've been very busy, and I'm going to be gone for four days again, and... argh... yeah. **

**Shout outs:**

**Grammarosprey: Not sure if I spelled your username right, so sorry if I didn't. Anyway, your insights were very interesting to read :) You were right on a lot of them, but even I don't know ****_exactly_**** what's going to happen. I have a basic outline planned out in my head, but... y'know... it could change... Also, thanks for catching the 'their's' thing. I missed it while editing. I'll fix that as soon as possible.**

* * *

P.o.V. - Magnussen

He smiled his cold, serpentine smile at the man sitting across from him.

Mycroft Holmes, the most powerful man in the country. Apart from him, of course.

"Are you going to sit there smirking, or are we going to discuss business?"

Mycroft's tone was cold as ice, but sharp and clipped. The man was almost as megalomaniacal as he was, and obviously hated it when he wasn't in control. Magnussen hummed in amusement.

"By all means, Mr. Holmes, discuss away."

"A conversation requires two participants."

"I'm giving you the first move. Be grateful."

Mycroft's expression didn't waver.

Magnussen did this to all of his victims. He let them have the first move. It gave them false hope, usually, and filled them with faux confidence. It didn't seem as if Mycroft was falling for it, though. The man was powerful and intelligent, certainly. He just had a weak point. And Magnussen had found it.

"Well, Mr. Magnussen, in your message you said that you had some information regarding the security of the nation. May I ask what this intelligence is, and what your source is?"

He smiled, cleaning his glasses. "Hmm... no."

The politician seemed appalled. "Pardon?"

"You British people," he hummed, placing the glasses back on his face. "So polite. You go about your daily lives apologizing and holding open doors... To answer your question, no. You may not ask what it is, or what my source is. I will tell you what you need to know, and I sincerely hope that we can reach an ultimatum."

"So you have blackmail against me."

"No, Mr. Holmes, I have the material necessary to do business with you. I am a business man, not a blackmailer."

Mycroft glared. "Pray tell."

* * *

P.o.V. - Moriarty

"Got it!" he sang.

The rest of them stared.

"What?" Molly asked.

He rolled his eyes. "Mycroft's mobile. I tracked it. I got his location."

Eurus grabbed the device out of his hand and studied it. Sherlock was looking over her shoulder. He turned to Greg. "You have your licence, yes?"

"Wait, hold on a second. I thought we were dealing with creepy notes from psychos."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "We _are,_ idiot. You have it?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"'But' what?" Jim asked, staring the unfortunate 11th year down.

Greg shuffled his feet. "But I don't want it revoked... and with you lot in the car I might crash. People could die."

Jim smiled, "Well, we're good then. Let's go."

"Didn't you hear him?" John asked. "People could die!"

"That's _because _that's what people DO!"

They all jumped, except for Eurus who was taking a pocket knife out of a drawer.

"Good then? Let's go."

* * *

Magnussen P.o.V.

Mycroft frowned at the sheets of paper that he'd placed in front of him as if they had somehow disappointed him. He showed no signs of distress or discomfort. "Well, Mr. Magnussen, you've certainly been... thorough."

"Always."

"And I suppose you will share this information if I don't pay a certain sum?"

"That depends, Mr. Holmes."

"On what?"

"You're supposed to be intelligent. Figure it out."

"I don't see what you mean."

"I have both your brother and your sister under my thumb right now, and they don't even know it. Therefore, I have you under my thumb. The information is not for sale, however, for a certain price, I'd be willing to keep it a secret."

For the first time during the meeting, Mycroft showed signs of discomfort.

"Name your price."

Magnussen smiled.

* * *

P.o.V. - Moriarty

"GREG! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL- ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US!?"

"Sorry, John... Moriarty! Right or left!?"

"Left."

"Hang on!"

The car screeched as they made the sharp turn. They'd learned the hard way that some people didn't do well with Greg's driving. John was screaming his head off, and Molly was sheet white and had a death grip on the door handle. Sherlock was sleeping, miraculously, and Eurus was stuck between him and John in the back, looking rather uncomfortable.

"This car has terrible steering. Where'd you say you got it?"

"Hotwired it. It was the one closest to us," Jim responded.

"You _stole _it?"

"You seriously didn't notice that there aren't any keys?"

"Well, no, I-"

"Right here."

The car turned sharply, throwing Sherlock onto Eurus and making John scream again. He sounded like a girl. Molly began to turn green.

"Your bloody navigational skills suck, Moriarty."

"Better than your driving. Right again."

Greg jerked on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. "How much further? God, if my dad ever finds out..."

"Three miles. Turn here."

"Which direction!? And how are you so bloody calm?"

"Left.''

They turned again. Sherlock hit the window, still asleep.

"I have experience with crazier drivers than you."

"Who?"

"Me, of course." He grinned and glanced at the map. "Oh. Turn right here."

"Moriarty!"

"Sorry. Oh, wait. No, I'm not."

"Bloody hell."

"Oh, look. Here's the driveway."

"A little warning would be nice!"

The car turned, hitting the mailbox. Greg winced as the car stopped.

Jim grinned. "Well, that was fun. Someone wanna wake up Sherlock?"

* * *

Magnussen P.o.V

"I cannot give you that sort of access," Mycroft said. His voice was clipped, tense. He was torn between protecting himself and his family versus the nation.

"Well, that's a shame, because-"

He was interrupted by a crash coming from outside. Then he heard the sound of brakes. Glancing at Mycroft once more, he walked over to the window and looked out. His eyes were greeted with the sight of a broken mailbox, a beat up car, and several teenagers.

Magnussen just stared for a minute, unsure on how to react. He glanced at Mycroft, who was seemingly bemused.

They both, without hesitation, walked out of the house, leaving the papers behind on Magnussen's desk.

* * *

P.o.V. - Moriarty

He saw Mycroft and Magnussen walking towards them first.

"Found your brother."

Sherlock said something groggily which was either along the lines of 'five more minutes, mom,' or, 'here's some vital information about this guy that just might save out lives.'

He hoped it wasn't too important.

They all seemed shell-shocked. Molly was still green, John was trying not to hyperventilate, and Eurus was fiddling with the knife in her hands. Maybe it relieved stress? He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know. And Greg... Greg was staring off into the horizon, perhaps thanking any deity out there for sparing his life.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mycroft asked as soon as he reached them.

"The car crashed. Lestrade's a terrible driver," he explained sincerely.

"I see."

It was obvious from his expression that he really didn't see.

The other man- Magnussen, Jim had to assume- seemed to be debating between laughing and calling the police. He did neither, though.

"Won't you all come inside?" Magnussen asked.

Mycroft tensed.

Jim glanced at the others. Sherlock seemed to be conscious and Eurus didn't seem to be murderous, but the others hadn't improved much.

"They're dealing with post-traumatic stress right now," he explained.

Mycroft gave him a look, like, _what the hell is going on?_

He smiled his 'I'm innocent' smile.

Magnussen coughed. "Come inside when you are ready."

And so they did, 47 minutes later.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Anything?**

**Thanks for reading!**

**TW999**


	12. Chapter 11

**Hey! Guess who managed to not wait a week or two before writing the next chapter? Me! Yay... *crickets chirp in the background* **

**Shout outs:**

**Grammarosprey: To answer your questions: a) Magnussen knows, but nobody else does. Yet... b) Sherlock, Eurus, Molly, Jim, and John are 14, Greg is 17, Mycroft is 21, and Magnussen is 23. Hope this helps! *Takes mug of tea gratefully and, after checking for eyeballs, drinks it***

* * *

P.o.V. - Molly

Magnussen's so-called 'house' was more of a mansion. And not a small mansion, either. It was definitely the larger kind.

"Please, have a seat," Magnussen said. His words were polite enough, but there was not a hint of kindness in his eyes. She's disliked him immediately, as soon as she first saw him. He seemed ruthless.

They all sat on a white sofa except for Mycroft, who insisted on standing, and Sherlock, who decided that it was a good time to be stubborn and sat on the floor. The house was quiet.

"Would you like to explain why you are here?" Mycroft asked.

Molly grimaced. He was talking to them like they were children.

"No," Sherlock said, mocking his tone.

Mycroft sighed. "What were you thinking?"

"Greg's a bloody terrible driver," John said dryly.

Greg threw him a look.

Mycroft focused his gaze on Sherlock. "Your idea, I presume?"

"Nope."

"Whose was it, then?"

Nobody answered. She didn't remember exactly who came up with the idea, but they had all gone along with it, so technically they were all guilty. Molly knew, though, that the idea hadn't been hers.

"It's important," Eurus said. Her voice was patronizing and monotonous. "We assumed you already knew about the note. Do you?"

"What 'note'?"

Sherlock held the paper up for him, and Mycroft took it and read it. Then he frowned.

"No, I had no knowledge of this."

Magnussen, who had positioned himself by the window and was looking out, turned and walked back over to them. Mycroft folded to note back up so that he couldn't see it and put it back in the envelope.

"Do you have things sorted out here?" the blackmailer asked.

"No, sir," Moriarty said. The level of sarcasm in his voice made Molly wince. He almost sounded like he was singing. It was... weird.

Magnussen frowned. He studied them for a bit, then seemed to deem them boring and turned to Mycroft like he wasn't.

"I have a new deal regarding the papers to offer you," he said. "You give me that note, I give you all the papers. It's better than our last deal, yes? I see no reason why you should decline my offer."

"You don't know the contents of the letter," Mycroft said flatly.

"No, I don't."

"I have an offer to make to you, Mr. Magnussen," Mycroft said.

Magnussen laughed. "And what might that be?"

"I have our entire conversation recorded. Give me the papers, and I will not disclose the recording."

Magnussen frowned and cocked his head to the side.

"And does that recording include the part where these..." he gestured toward them flippantly. "Drive into my mailbox? There is a 'No Trespassing' sign."

"Must've ran it over," Moriarty sang under his breath. Eurus kicked him in the shin.

"I will report them if you do not delete the recording," Magnussen explained. "As far as I've heard, their school was lit on fire, and they have suspects."

"Arson," Moriarty said. "Yeah, it was definitely an arsonist. I mean-"

Eurus kicked him again.

"You didn't share the recording?"

Mycroft glared at nothing in particular. "Not yet."

"Let me watch you delete it."

"And that, lads and lassies, is how blackmail- ow!."

Eurus had kicked him again.

Mycroft took out his mobile and did some stuff on it to delete whatever evidence he had against Magnussen. Magnussen smiled at them in a mock-apologetic way, then walked into the other room. When he returned, he was carrying a folder of papers.

"Well, Mr. Holmes, do I get the letter, or does this get revealed?"

Mycroft wordlessly handed the letter to him. Magnussen went to grab it, but Mycroft held out his hand first. Magnussen handed him the folder, and he opened it and looked through it. Then he handed the letter to Magnussen.

At that moment, all the lights turned off. Molly could have created some light, but she didn't. She heard some movement. Then something that sounded like a sandbag falling to the ground to the left.

She looked around. Everything was pitch black. She heard another sound, very similar to the first one.

"Hello?" she asked. Then something grabbed her wrist and dragged her off. She tried to scream, but a hand was covering her mouth. Eventually, she stopped moving and light filled wherever they were. Sherlock was standing next to her, still gripping her wrist. Once she'd seen him, he turned off the light again. She's seen the room they were in: it was a closet with no windows.

"What-" Sherlock's hand covered her mouth again. No talking, then.

They heard a sound, like someone dragging something across the floor. Then there was a bang, and everything was quiet.

Sherlock dragged her somewhere again, and then turned on the light. She looked around. All the windows were boarded over.

"What was that?" she asked.

Sherlock frowned. "I don't know... but they took everyone. They were drugged."

"How'd you know?"

"I can see in the dark. One of my... abilities."

"Ah."

Molly looked around. Besides the windows and the lack of people, everything looked the same.

"Here," Sherlock called. She jumped. She hadn't noticed that he left.

He walked back over to her and held up a sheet of paper.

"Our Friend left us another note. Read it."

She took the paper and read,

_Molly and Sherlock,_

_Good job. I didn't expect anyone to escape. Also,  
good job finding Earth. Now, I have taken your friends  
to a secure location. They are fine, for now. Solve the  
cryptogram to find the location, and meet us there.  
You have 24 hours to get here. Each hour that passes  
beyond that will result in someone dying, so do be quick.  
Hint: Numbers stay the same.  
Tick tock, tick tock,  
Your Adversary_

_STWI CG ZJ FZLHWGJUWH AZWUF OUJHB, Z591, EZGGHWJOVZTJH, QHGVTRQ RZ12 4XP, CQ_

* * *

**A/N: Sooo... can you figure out the cryptogram? Any thoughts? Ideas? Suggestions? Criticisms? Random facts? If so, review! If not... well, you could review anyway, or you could... just... not? It's up to you!**

**JOZWQG!**

**TW999**


	13. Chapter 12

**Hello Readers! Long time no see! Sorry for the wait- I'll try to make this chapter a bit longer. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review, follow, or favorite!**

**By the way, to anyone who figured out the cryptogram, it is a real place. I looked it up. However, I have never been there and have no idea if my descriptions of the place are even close to accurate. **

**Also, I don't own anything you recognize. Obviously.**

* * *

P.o.V. - Mycroft

Mycroft really hated it when he got kidnapped. He hated it _with a passion. _Usually it wasn't even a concern because of the high-level security that followed him continuously, but he'd told them to back down when he'd gone to see Magnussen. It had been a personal matter- no need to include the government. Now, he was beginning to regret that choice.

He grunted as he sat up and looked around. The room he was in was dark, but visibility was still high enough for him to see. The floor was made of damp concrete, and the walls were made of stone. Several machines hummed obnoxiously, as if they were purposely trying to distract him. There were no windows, but the machines had glowing buttons on them, which explained the visibility.

After doing some searching, Mycroft found a door handle and turned it. Of course, with his luck, it was locked.

He stepped back and squinted at the door, trying to take in as much information as possible about where he was and what the... ah... _predicament _allowed. The door was wide and somewhat new, made of metal and painted a dull gray color. It was old enough to have a skeleton keyhole, which wasn't as common as it used to be. So, he'd need a key or a lock pick to open the door, which was so far the only way out.

He didn't have a key or a lock pick.

Mycroft sighed as he walked around the room. It wasn't large; maybe three by five meters in length and width? He wasn't claustrophobic, but the limited space was starting to get on his nerves. He couldn't yell for help; he had no idea where he was. His options were limited. _Very _limited. He checked his pockets to see if he had his mobile on him. No luck. He noted that his umbrella was missing as well.

He walked over to the stone wall and tested it's strength. It was solid, and the rocks were damp. He figured that he must be underground somewhere. The anxiety in the bit of his stomach grew as he scanned the small room again. He hated it, as it was an annoying affliction, but he couldn't help it. Questions flew through his mind faster than he could control them. _Will I ever get out? Will there be enough oxygen? Will the machines explode?_

The possibilities were endless.

Finally, as Mycroft ran his hand over the wet rocks again, his brain decided to work. _You can control water, you idiot,_ his brain said. _Use it!_

He pulled the water molecules toward himself and began to gather them into a sphere hovering a meter off the ground. He brought the water to the door and made it go into the keyhole. Once he was sure it filled the whole space, he made the molecules freeze. The water became solid. He made it as cold as he could, then, turned it in the lock. It clicked, and the door opened.

He was free.

Mycroft ignored the enormous feeling of relief that threatened to overwhelm him, and set off to find where he was. He closed the door. He was in a narrow hallway, the ceiling lit with LED lights. Glancing back at his former prison one more time, he saw an envelope taped to the door. He grabbed it and opened it. Inside was a sheet of paper with writing on it. A note, then. Who would want to leave him a note?

_Mycroft,  
__You got out. Good for you.  
__Your troubles are only beginning._

_Go on, then, Mycroft. Upstairs is the key to  
your freedom. You die? Then  
again, now or later someone must live._

_Please excuse my poor grammar. I not exactly  
from around here._

_Sincerely,  
Your Adversary._

He stared at the letter for awhile feeling very perplexed. In the other letter, the Adversary had not made the same mistakes. Maybe it was a hint? He scanned the letter again. Then, he got it. The grammar thing had been a test, and a vital clue in finding the skip code. It only applied to the middle paragraph. He skipped ever three letters, so _'Go on, then, Mycroft. Upstairs is the key to your freedom' _was actually _'Go upstairs to.' _After applying the code to the rest of the cipher, he got the message: _Go upstairs to die or live._

It wasn't exactly promising, but he walked down the hallway with the intention to do exactly that.

* * *

P.o.V. - Eurus

The first thing she saw when she woke up was John Watson and Greg Lestrade arguing, and she was less than amused. Then, she looked down and saw the ground two meters below her feet, and her mind instantly analyzed the quandary: she was tied by her hands above her head to something above her, dangling over solid ground. A little ways in the distance was a building- a large manor-like place.

Looking back over at Greg and John, she saw that they were in a similar situation. They were both tied up the same way with their arms pinned to their sides, like they had rope harnesses on. Both harnesses were attached to the same rope which was swung over the telephone line like a pulley system. So, Eurus figured, she must be attached to somewhere closer to the actual beam that held the lines up.

After taking inventory, Eurus realized that she still had the knife in her pocket. She could use it to cut the ropes. The only problem was, she couldn't grab it as her hands were tied.

Looking up again, she saw that her rope was firmly attached where the wire was attached to the beam. She could swing up and over it, then possibly undo her hands. If she did nothing, she would eventually die of asphyxiation. That was not a desirable outcome.

She successfully swung onto the cable and began to undo her hands, ignoring everything John and Greg were trying to tell her. Then, she took advantage of the fact that she could control the air and jumped, using the air to hold herself up. Technically she was flying, but she didn't see it like that. It was more like walking on an invisible surface.

Once she reached John and Greg, she took the knife out of her pocket. If she simply let them drop, they'd be injured or possibly killed. She decided to use the air to slow their descent. Still ignoring them, she cut the rope and went through with her plan. They screamed very loudly. Once they reached the ground, she came down as well.

John stared at her, hyperventilating. "What the hell was _that _for?"

"You're welcome," she said, because she had heard that it was polite to say that after helping people.

Greg snickered for some reason.

"We should head for that place," John said once he came to his senses. He gestured toward the manor place.

Greg nodded. "Yeah, they might have a phone or something. I lost mine."

Eurus started walking, and John and Greg scurried to keep up.

* * *

P.o.V. - Sherlock

He had solved the cryptogram in 3 minutes and 21 seconds.

FIND US AT A591, BASSENTHWAITW, KESWICK CA12 4QG, UK.

It had been simple, really. But of course Molly didn't think so. She'd praised him _excessively._ It wasn't that he didn't like praise- he rather enjoyed it, sometimes. It was just that she got... _annoying._

After that, they'd gotten a cab and given him the address. He'd raised his eyebrows, but drove them anyway. Four hours later, he pulled up in front of a manor-styled hotel and charged them a very large fee. Sherlock had used his abilities to put the man into a state of sleep paralysis and hypnotize him, telling him in a very convincing tone that nobody here owed him anything and that he wanted to go home. When the driver woke up, he'd blinked at them as if he didn't remember them and drove off.

It was an old trick, but an effective one.

"How'd you do that?" Molly asked in awe.

Sherlock glanced at her. "Hypnotize him?"

She nodded.

"Well, it's fairly simple. I did use my abilities to help bring him into the state of sleep paralysis. The rest is just hypnotic suggestions."

"Oh.''

When they reached the building, they walked inside. A receptionist sat at the front desk. Her hair was snow white, and her eyes were a reddish pink color. _Albinism,_ his mind supplied. _Single, no pets, isolated, liar, second job- _he ignored the rest and tried to smile back when she greeted them.

"Hi, my name is Namhaid. Are you here for the masquerade party?" Her voice had a lilt to it, but he didn't immediately recognize it.

Sherlock tried to block off more deductions as he responded, "Yes, we are."

Molly glanced at him like he was insane. He probably was.

Namhaid smiled. "Good. You can go in. And are you by any chance Sherlock Holmes?"

He nodded slowly.

She took out an envelope and handed it to him. "Someone dropped this off for you."

He took it and he and Molly walked off.

Opening the package, he took out a piece of paper. On it was printed two words: _get ready._

He showed it to Molly, then they went off to see what they could find.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so this one's a _little_ longer. Hope you liked it! If you can, please review!  
**

**Thanks!**

**TempestWolf999**


	14. Chapter 13

**Hi again!**

**Guess what? I don't own anything you recognize! **

**Shout outs:**

**Grammarosprey: Hmmm... yes, very suspicious... as for the face reveal, your offer is very tempting... maybe it will happen, maybe it won't, maybe it's already happened... who knows? (Well, I know, but I mean besides me.)**

* * *

P.o.V. - Magnussen

How he had ended up having a staring contest with a psychotic teenager, he had no idea. It hadn't been his idea to be locked in an attic, either.

He looked around for a way to open the door. There wasn't much there; a few empty cardboard boxes, the odd chair or table, and some old kids' toys. The kid stood in the corner and watched him, eyes unblinking and wide, following his every move.

He walked over to a table and broke off a leg. Walking up to the door, Magnussen tried to use it as a lever.

"That won't work," the kid chanted at him.

Magnussen threw him a look. "What?"

The kid started walking toward him, still not blinking, and said, "I _said _it won't WORK, IDIOT!''

He jumped. "You're insane."

"Problem?"

Sighing, he threw down the table's leg. "Alright, what's your name?"

"Rich Brooks."

"No, it's not."

"Fine. Jim Moriarty." His voice had an Irish lilt to it.

"Alright, why won't it work, and what will?"

"I could give you a lecture on the physics of angles and pressure and whatnot, but let's just say the note said so."

He blinked. "What note?"

Moriarty held up an envelope and handed it to him. He reached to grab it, but it was moved away. Jim tore it in half and handed him one of the halves. Magnussen was immediately pissed, but didn't show it. Moriarty was smirking.

"You... why did you do that?" He made sure to keep his voice neutral, but he didn't think it worked.

"Insurance," Jim sang nonchalantly. Then he burst into a fit of odd laughter. Yes, the kid had definitely lost it.

Opening his half of the envelope, Magnussen took out a piece of paper folded into a small square. Moriarty had given him the whole note, but had torn the envelope just to get on his nerves.

Glaring at the kid, he opened the paper and read the typed message to himself.

_Moriarty and Magnussen,  
__Isn't this fun? You're trapped in an attic.  
There is one way out. It isn't the door.  
Good luck! Once you get out,  
go downstairs. One of you six will  
die today. Who will it be, I wonder? _

_Your Adversary_

He grimaced. "Charming."

Moriarty rolled his eyes. "Was that a schizophrenic outburst, or are you actually talking to me?"

Magnussen glared at him. "There's a way out, but it isn't the door. So what is it?"

"The window, obviously."

Right. Obviously.

The window was on the small side. Jim was short. He'd be able to fit through it easily. Magnussen wasn't so sure about himself. Then there was the fact that they were in an attic. They couldn't just jump- they were high up in the building.

"Like princesses in a tower," Jim said as though he was reading his thoughts. "Can I call you Charlie?"

"No," he said as he shook his head, disturbed by both comments.

"Alright, Charlie," Jim said. He walked over to the window and pulled down the curtains, then tied them together. After tying it off to a beam, he turned to Magnussen and said, "Ladies first."

He stared at Jim in disbelief. Jim just stared back. Finally, with a sigh, he took the curtain and climbed out the window. Then, he slowly slid down the curtain like it was a firemen's pole. All the while he expected Moriarty to cut the line and let him fall to his death, but surprisingly, that didn't happen. He got to the ground safely, and then Moriarty came down.

Glancing at the kid warily, he said, "The note said to go downstairs. We should go to the lobby of this place."

Moriarty didn't seem to even process his words, but just started to walk toward the front of the building. Magnussen followed.

Inside the building, a lady sat at the front desk. Her hair was pure white, and her eyes were a pinkish red color. Magnussen knew that it was the result of albinism, but he'd never met an albino person before. It was interesting.

"Hello," she said with a smile. "My name is Namhaid. Are you here for the masquerade party?"

"Yes," Moriarty said before Magnussen had the chance to respond. Then he ran off.

Magnussen just sighed.

"Kids, right?" Namhaid said. "Have fun at the party, Mr. Magnussen."

He nodded and started walking after Moriarty. His dignity wouldn't allow him to run through the lobby of a hotel.

* * *

Mycroft P.o.V.

There had been 128 steps in the staircase.

It was at times like this that he was actually thankful for his diet. The Adversary certainly had a cruel sense of humor.

He wasn't sure exactly what he expected to see at the top of the staircase. The chances of it being dangerous were highly probable. What he did not expect to see, however, was his sister practically dragging John and Greg through the hallway while they complained about either being tired or hungry.

For a minute he just stared at them, then his sense of reason kicked in and he walked toward them.

Eurus barely glanced at him, then kept walking. He followed.

"You're out of breath," she noted.

"I had to climb 128 steps."

A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "So this diet Sherlock was talking about-"

"Not another word."

And that was that.

They found an unlocked hotel room and went inside, hoping that it was empty. It was, thankfully, and they locked the door. The room was large, with two beds, a bathroom, a mini-fridge, a microwave, and a television set.

"Okay, so what do we do now?" John asked.

"What are we supposed to do? I mean... this person, whoever it is, was able to bring us here, so maybe we just have to wait for more instructions," Greg said.

Mycroft nodded slowly and reached for his mobile. It had been taken, which was bad. He was one of the most important figures in the British government. The fact that he'd even gotten that high up at his age was a miracle. But now that he wasn't there- it would take a miracle for everything to be okay.

"Look here," Eurus said suddenly. Mycroft walked over to her.

She was kneeling by a chess board. White appeared to be winning- the queen only had to move once to put the black king into checkmate. The black bishop was with a rook. Two pawns, a knight, and a bishop were together. A knight was with the other rook. The king was in the back. All of the other pieces were missing. All white had was the king, the queen, and all of the pawns.

"A game of chess," Eurus said. "It's a good metaphor."

"So... that's us?" John asked, gesturing to the pieces.

"It would appear to be so..." Mycroft said, studying the board. He'd never liked chess much.

"These four- this is us," Eurus said, pointing to the pawns, the knight, and the bishop. "I am the knight, Mycroft is the bishop, and the other two are pawns."

Greg seemed offended. "How do you know we're the pawns?"

She flicked her hand, and suddenly Greg was levitating.

"All right! Point proven, now put me down!"

She just let him drop.

"So, these other ones- Sherlock, Molly, Moriarty... who's the other one?" John asked.

"Magnussen," Mycroft responded. "He's the only other option."

Eurus looked at the board again. "Sherlock is the other knight. Magnussen must be the other bishop, which leaves Molly and Moriarty as the rooks."

"So what do we do?" John asked.

"We wait," Mycroft responded. "It's white's move."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**TW999**


	15. Chapter 14

**Hi (again). **

**Don't own.**

**Grammarosprey: Glad you caught that... yep, it's white's move and black is almost in checkmate. But did you notice that nobody was listed as the king? So- you know what? I'm going to let you read the story and decide for yourself. **

* * *

P.o.V. - Moriarty

Charlie was an idiot, but he was smarter than the other idiots, which was saying something. It was weird- he seemed to expect Jim to have morals and emotions and tedious, _boring _sentiment. Jim played along, a little. Not killing someone was considered _kind _and _nice,_ right?

They were in a large room with costumes and hats and masks lying everywhere. There were some changing rooms to his left. This masquerade party was obviously where the Adversary wanted them to be, and at that point, he'd rather be on their good side. That it, if people who hand out death threats had a good side. He certainly did not.

"Alright, Charlie," he sang. "Find a costume so we can go to this _wonderful_ party."

Charlie looked scandalized, maybe because of Jim's order, maybe because he was calling him Charlie, or maybe because he didn't like his singing. If it were that one, he's be offended. He had hardly been singing- just drawling and making his voice go all high pitched. It was fun to watch people's reactions when he did that.

"Well, Charlie?" he demanded.

"You call me that one more time, Moriarty, and I swear-"

Jim held up his hand as a gesture for him to stop. He didn't have time for this. Grabbing a costume, a mask, and a hat from a table, he walked into one of the changing rooms to put on the costume.

When he came out, he was wearing one of those masks they hang up by theaters with one side smiling and one crying. He wore a king's costume and a crown. How fitting.

Charlie took one look at him and snorted. "You're too short."

"Oh, but Charlie, in a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And honey, you should _see me in a crown_. Now put on a costume, or I _swear _I will _burn-_"

"Don't call me Charlie," Magnussen snapped before grabbing a costume and walking into a changing room. He soon came out wearing a black suit and a raven mask.

"Aw, ironic, isn't it?" Jim asked.

"What?"

"You're dressed as a raven. They feed off of dead carcasses. You blackmail people for a living, thriving off of their dead carcasses- or their secrets. It's just _poetic_."

"Says the fourteen year old psychopath dressed as a bipolar king."

He shrugged. "Touche."

People started coming into the room to put on their costumes. Jim walked out into the lobby. Magnussen walked up beside him. The man loved to control people and hated being controlled, which made him even more fun to play with.

"We should split up," Jim said.

Magnussen gave him a questioning look.

"You're annoying the hell out of me," he explained slowly. "So we should split up."

"Just one minute ago-"

"I'm _sooo _changeable! Now go, already."

Magnussen left.

He walked around a bit, drank a glass of vodka mixed with something that, frankly, tasted awful, and watched the crowd. He didn't recognize anyone. He knew they were there- _they_ being Sherlock and Eurus and the rest of them- but they seemed to be hiding. He wasn't concerned about their well-being; far from it, in fact. But the letter had said that someone would die, and he'd really rather not be _someone._

If someone was already dead, he didn't have much cause for concern.

Finally, after looking for what felt like ages (15 minutes), he saw Sherlock and Molly over in the corner. Molly was dressed as a white bird, and Sherlock was a black cat. He walked over to them and said casually, "You know if anyone's died yet?''

* * *

P.o.V. - Eurus

Normal people made her head hurt. Sometimes she actually almost missed Sherrinford.

Masquerade party.

She knew what the words meant. She knew what said 'party' would entail. But the noise and the bright lights and all of it... it was overpowering. Both of her brothers had the same problem- Sherlock more so than Mycroft, as the latter had trained himself to be more unaffected. They saw and observed so much, they noticed everything. And, well, sometimes 'everything' made her head hurt.

John said something over the crowd, making the throbbing in her head intensify. If it got worse, she might have a psychotic episode, which would not be good. She tried to focus on reality.

All four of them walked to a corner of the room where it was quieter.

"What were you saying?" Mycroft asked John.

"My phone. It's back in my pocket."

Mycroft seemed to be on the verge of grabbing it and calling the secret service. John held it out to him. Once Mycroft started to type, though, it buzzed with a text message.

Mycroft frowned and held up the phone for them to see.

_Come find me. ~Adversary xx_

* * *

P.o.V. - YOU

_You watch them as they dance around, trying to figure out the clues that you left for them. They could do it- you know that for certain. Some of them are eve as clever as you are._

_But that's still not good enough. They aren't strong enough to beat you._

_Intellectually, they might stand a chance. But your level of power cannot be matched- especially if not all of them are alive._

_You've killed people before. The serial killings- that had been you. A sort of 'getting ready' ritual. It had been quite nice; soothing. _

_But you wouldn't kill any of them._

_No, they's have to figure it out themselves._

_You're quite proud of some of them. Age is never a factor. 'Because they are children' is never an excuse. Sherlock and Jim and Eurus- they were three of the most intelligent people on earth, and they were fourteen. They'd seen things that 'adults' had deemed 'not child friendly' and thrived. Mycroft held one of the most important governmental positions that there was, and he was 21. _

_Age was just a number, like everything else._

_A mantra starts in your head, and you let it run wild. Numbers... numbers made up the universe._

_1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8..._

_Numbers are facts. Everything is a fact._

_...13, 21, 34, 54, 87..._

_Facts make up statements, and these statements tell you everything you need to know in a code; a simple sequence._

_...144, 233, 377, 610, 987..._

_You gave them an order, a simple command that you knew they would follow._

_...1597, 2584, 4181, 6765, 10946..._

Come find me.

* * *

**A/N: ...and we have some plot developments! **

**Please review- I appreciate feedback.**

**TW999**


	16. Chapter 15

**This is long overdue. Sorry... **

**Shout outs are at the bottom.**

**I don't own.**

* * *

P.o.V. - Magnussen

If he had believed in a higher power, Magnussen would have sworn by that deity's name the Jim Moriarty belonged in an asylum with a straitjacket on. The kid wasn't stable in the slightest, and it was unnerving. And that was coming from him, the most powerful man in the country.

He wasn't _offended,_ per se, about Moriarty telling him to get lost. He could have cared less. But there was another psycho on the loose that seemed intent on one of them dying, and he wanted to live to see the next day. He wondered if leaving Jim actually made it safer for him or not.

Magnussen hated his attire with every fiber of his being. It made him look ridiculous- like nobody could take him seriously. He was always taken seriously. When he knew something about someone, they always took him seriously.

He walked around aimlessly. There really wasn't much to do there but walk and try not to die. He tried to blend in and act casual, but he felt like it would be impossible while looking like a plague doctor.

The people there didn't seem to acknowledge his existence. It was really creepy- it was like he was a phantom. They just... didn't see him. And as far as he knew, invisibility was not one of his abilities.

He walked around the room, walking the same route over and over. He almost felt dizzy, going in circles. It was like he was in a daze or a hypnotic trance, and the only thing he could do was walk.

Suddenly, he felt something on his forearm, then he was in another room. Mycroft Holmes' little brother was sitting at a table in the middle of the room dressed as a black cat. There was an empty chair across from him. Taking that as a cue, he walked over and sat down. There was a pitcher of water and two glasses. Sherlock filled them and set one in front of Magnussen and the other in front of himself. He took a drink. Ice cubed clanked against the glass.

"Mr. Magnussen," Sherlock greeted. Magnissen nodded.

"You brought me here?" he asked.

Sherlock nodded slowly, staring at him without blinking. His silver eyes seemed to bore holes through Magnussen's skull.

"You have some critical information concerning me. I'd like to know what it is," Sherlock said. His voice was even and calm.

"What makes you think I would tell you?" he asked.

"The fact that I have some vital intelligence that I am sure you'd like to know."

"You first."

Sherlock just kept staring at him.

Magnussen sighed. "Fine," he said, drinking half of the glass of water. "I have some material on a certain family member of yours that could lead to the incarceration of yourself, your sister, and your brother. I also know about your sister's former incarceration, and of your... not so legal recreational activities."

He began to feel paranoid and anxious all of a sudden. "Now you hold up your end of the deal." He could feel his heart rate go up.

Sherlock smiled. "The people here- most of them aren't real."

* * *

P.o.V. - Molly

She hated being treated like a child.

Sherlock had stayed with her until Moriarty had shown up, and then he'd left and Moriarty had stayed with her. It was like they were taking shifts.

She'd take Sherlock over Moriarty any day, despite how annoying the former was. Moriarty was just plain crazy. He'd leave her for dead in a heartbeat without thinking twice on it, and never lose any sleep because of it.

Molly had worked on a school essay with him once. She'd learned a bit about him then. He was scarily good at manipulating people (including her), charismatic, and unpredictable.

She watched as the people at the party walked around. It was weird- they went in cycles, almost seeming robotic. The receptionist lady- Nancy or Nelly or something- was handing out drinks.

Focusing on the light, suddenly, Molly realized what an idiot she'd been. She could make illusions by bending the light, bending it to look like something. All the people- they were illusions.

"They're fake," she said.

Jim rolled his eyes. "I know."

"_What?_"

"You never asked."

"But the platters- they're real."

"Yep."

Molly decided not to ask.

"We should go look for they others," she said.

"Magnussen was with me before. He's not now."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't say."

Moriarty gave her a look."You never know with you ordinary people. So... unobservant."

Molly did her best not to get offended and dragged Jim off to find everyone else.

* * *

P.o.V. - Sherlock

He watched Magnussen across from him. The man was panicking.

"I have a tolerance to cyanide. Nice try," Magnussen slurred. His jaw was clenched, and his heart rate was high. They were the first signs.

"Not cyanide," Sherlock said. It was fascinating, the effects the poison had on Magnussen.

Magnussen began to hyperventilate. Sweat shone on his forehead. "Arsenic?" Then he began to convulse.

Sherlock shook his head. "Strychnine. I was able to get it from a street dealer- he laces his LSD with it."

Anyone else would have called him cruel. Strychnine poisoning was painful- it took control of the nervous system and caused muscle contractions, hyperthermia, tachycardia, acidosis, and kidney failure.

Magnussen went still and stared at him in shock for a fill second, then started to convulse violently, falling out of his chair. That lasted for six minutes and thirty three seconds, then his face went into a horrible sarcastic smile. _R__isus sardonicus, _his brain supplied. Muscle contractions of the face resulting in a horrible caustic smile.

Eventually, Magnussen stilled. Sherlock checked his pulse. There was none. Then, it sank in- he'd just killed someone.

The fact that he had killed Magnussen didn't bother him much. The fact that he's most certainly get in trouble for it- that did. He was a minor, so legally it couldn't be that bad, but considering the psychiatrist's diagnosis for him, he's end up in an institution somewhere.

He stared at the body, unsure of what to do. Then, someone walked into the room.

"Good work, Sherlock. You know who I am, yes?"

"Adversary," Sherlock whispered.

* * *

**A/N: Okay. So. What did you think?**

**I got some of the strychnine facts from here: ** . .gov/books/NBK459306/

**That website gets credit for that.**

Shout outs:

**Grammarosprey: The game _is _on! I *finally* get to write the most exciting parts. Honestly, I wouldn't expect anyone to know who the king is. It's... complicated. The psychopath king comment was actually something my brain said at Jim while I was writing and I was just like, 'I am putting that in there.'  
****Now, I know that according to the Fibonacci sequence the number was in fact supposed to be 34, but I put 33. I don't remember if it was a typo or if I miscalculated, but I fixed it. Thanks for catching that! Cheers! (You may have drank all the tea, but I have the milk. *Cue evil laugh*) (Sorry, that is _really_ long.)**


	17. Chapter 16

**Hello... it's me... I owe everyone who reads this a huge apology for taking so long. But alas, I am here, as well as the new chapter. Here it is... after the shout outs. I also want to thank everyone who agreed with the anti-bullying thing. It means a lot.**

**Shout outs:**

**James Birdsong: Glad you like it. I hope it's cool...**

** Grammarosprey: Yeah, it's pretty big. The lobby of a remote hotel-and there are people all over the place. Sherlock, being who he is, probably weighed the odds and whatnot and decided that they'd all be safer with Magnussen dead. Also, I have a morbid fascination with killing off characters. :/ Perhaps all will be revealed? And one less P.o.V. is kinda nice... Whether or not Sherlock was right or not, I can't say. (Well, I can, but...) The plot thickens. As to the king- it might not even be a person at all.**

* * *

Eurus P.o.V.

She didn't really understand _why_ they were doing what they were. It made them look less suspicious, but other than that, it did absolutely nothing. This was when she decided that she hated costumes.

The lobby of the hotel was huge. The ceilings were high, and several wooden pillars went from the floor to the top. The windows were large and majestic, and a crystal chandelier hung from a chain lighting up the space.

They had already established the fact that the people there were just illusions. That being said, they looked real and it was difficult to walk through the crowd. The platters of drinks (all alcoholic, unfortunately- Mycroft wouldn't let them drink them) were very real, being held up by controlled updrafts of air. Eurus had tried to master that trick, but it was difficult.

Greg Lestrade and John Watson were terrified. Greg showed it more than John did, but it was evident on both of them. They knew as well as Eurus and Mycroft did that the Adversary was there with them, as well as Molly, Sherlock, Jim, and Magnussen. The problem was, they didn't know their exact locations.

"Shouldn't we be doing this... strategically?" John asked. Eurus sighed. The idiots didn't know how to not talk.

"We are," Mycroft said. His voice was clipped and he was scanning the crowd almost frantically.

"How's that?" Lestrade snapped. There was a cynical tone to his voice. "Oh, yeah, sure. We're walking in circles. Totally strategic."

"We have an established route and aren't splitting up. It's the best we can do right now," Mycroft said.

John shook his head. "Wouldn't splitting up help us to-"

"No."

"Oh. Oh, okay."

They continued to walk around, looking for familiar faces or some sort of clue. They found nothing until John collided with Sherlock.

Something was wrong, Eurus observed. Sherlock was slightly paler than usual, and unfocused.

"What happened?" she asked at the same time as Mycroft asked, "Have you seen anyone?"

Sherlock glanced toward a window, then explained. "Moriarty is with Molly, and I just killed Magnussen."

It certainly explained his unusual behavior.

"You _what?_" Lestrade shouted as Mycroft and John adopted identical expressions of shock and horror.

"What?" Sherlock asked defensively.

* * *

P.o.V. - Moriarty

The party was boring. Nothing was happening. Molly was annoying. He was bored.

Then someone screamed, and his day instantly got better.

Molly had turned pale. "We should see if someone needs help. I know they're illusions, but..."

He didn't listen to the rest of her rant, but walked off in the general direction of where the sound had come from. He heard Molly scampering after him.

They ended up finding everyone. Except for Magnussen, Jim noted. All three Holmeses and the other two kids.

"Hi!" he greeted them cheerfully. "Have you been having more fun than me?"

He vaguely registered Molly awkwardly standing in the background.

"All of us have been walking in circles, except for Sherlock, who killed Magnussen," Eurus explained bluntly.

"So you _did _have more fun than me. I'm jealous."

"I met the Adversary," Sherlock snapped. He seemed annoyed for some odd reason.

Mycroft jumped as if he'd been struck by lightning. "You did?"

Sherlock nodded. "Showed up right after Magnussen died. You'll never guess who it is."

"Hitler?" Lestrade tried.

Sherlock gave him a look. "No. _Obviously._"

John rolled his eyes."Yeah, Greg. Obviously it was Stalin."

Jim rolled his eyes as Eurus glared at both of them. Sherlock asked, "Who's _Greg_?"

"It was me," Moriarty said, just to see their reaction. Eurus shook her head, but the rest of them looked as if they believed him. He burst out laughing.

"Was it the secretary? Nelly, or Nora, or... whoever?" Molly asked timidly.

"Namhaid, yes," Sherlock said. "Only that's not her real name."

* * *

_P.o.V. - You_

_Namhaid. _

_It should have been easy for them. The word literally meant 'enemy'. But they didn't see it. _

_It annoys you so much how oblivious people could be. You put clues right in front of them, and they don't see them or solve your riddles or play your games._

_You don't like playing games, but you like winning. Why play if you won't win?_

_You will win. One of them is dead. They don't stand a chance._

_But still, you let them try._

_It'll be fun to watch them dance._

* * *

P.o.V. - Mycroft

Of course it was the secretary. It was always the secretary, wasn't it?

How cliche.

But then again, maybe it was supposed to be. They were being manipulated, like a puppet on a string.

"What's her name, then?" John asked.

Sherlock shrugged. "I haven't the faintest. But I suppose she's powerful. She just appeared, said 'well done,' and vanished."

"Vanished?"

"Yes, disappeared."

"I know what it means."

"So, what do we do?" Molly asked.

Mycroft sighed. He had no idea what he should do. It was almost painful.

"Wait," Moriarty sang.

"We can't," Lestrade said. But nobody gave any other suggestions.

They had, Mycroft supposed, no other choice.

* * *

**A/N: And... there it is. **

**TW999**


End file.
